


The Abyss

by Meldemort



Series: Mostly dark Tomarry fanfics [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bad Ending, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Needs a Hug, Harry has a Brother, I promise, I'm Going to Hell, Independent Harry Potter, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sane Tom Riddle, Seer Harry Potter, Squib Harry Potter, Two Shot, no Snake-Face, this is going to be dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldemort/pseuds/Meldemort
Summary: Harry Potter is a Squib. He has learnt to accept it and lives in the muggle society since his 17th birthday. Under Voldemort's reign, wizards are to stay with their own people, but Harry decides to break the law since squibs are mostly ignored.Squibs yes, but not Seers.The day Harry accidentally runs into a gang of Death Eaters, everything falls apart. Voldemort takes an interest in him. And whatever the Dark Lord wants, he gets.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Mostly dark Tomarry fanfics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979981
Comments: 28
Kudos: 374





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> I wanted to post a short story including a Tomarry pairing (it's Voldemort here but he's hot and has a nose!) since long, so here I am. My english is not my first language, therefore I apologize if my vocabulary isn't as eloquent as Shakespeare's.
> 
> Please, mind the tags!
> 
> (ps: I made minor edits since then, I'm sorry for the horrible mistakes you had to bear with. I know there must be others but the main ones are corrected! Yay~)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of chap 1 was missing all this time!! I added it only now TT (16/11/20) I'm so dumb.

_He is hot. Everything is blurry._

_He can see distorted shapes moving here and there in the room but is unable to figure out what they are. His breathing is like a muffled melody, peaceful and sinister at the same time. His limbs are abnormally heavy, he can't even move a finger from where he is laying. Like he is not residing inside his own body, but rather an outsider watching from a stranger's eye._

_A mysterious shadow slithers in and out his field of vision. He hears his breath grow faster, harder. Someone is here. Who, he doesn't know. But the strange pressure in the air along with the vibrating atmosphere alert him of the danger he is in. Magic. Everywhere. Strong, powerful. Darker than black. He is drowning in it and finds himself unable to escape this unwholesome seduction as death never comes, even though he feels like suffocating._

_'_ Harry…'

_A voice, a murmur. Something familiar and yet, he's never heard it before. This place too. It's like he has always been in this room although he has never set a foot in there until now, on these luxurious cushions, clothed in sulk gown and covered in glittering jewels. Is he drugged? Kidnapped? Is it a dream or… No, it feels too real to be a simple trick of his imagination. His mind running wild while remaining motionless against his will, he tries to make out his surroundings and catches the shape of a man coming to the dim light that colours the nearby walls with pale red and purple._

'Harry.'

_More warmth covers his face, fingers ghosting over the tanned skin of his cheek from behind. A breath comes tickling his earlobe in a hot brush._

'You're mine.'

_The magic around him explodes like an invisible firework. He gasps, and air as hot as the lecherous flames in a fireplace rushes in his windpipe like a violent blast. He screams. Or tries to, because no oxygen fills his lungs anymore, and his mouth is opened in a silent howl of pain and horror. It's hot. It's too hot. He's burning from inside, from outside. From everywhere. This wizard's magic is running through every veins existing in his body, and all he can do is staring wide in gleaming, crimson eyes piercing him as though his flesh was absolutely nothing._

_This time, the scream coming out of his throat rips the air in a deafening sound._

* * *

  
His eyes opened in panic. Harry straightened up on his bed, panting and sweating like he just ran dozen of miles in his sleep. He shot a hand up his raven hair even more dishevelled than usual. His mind still blurry, he barely paid attention to the door crashing against the wall as a red-haired woman barged in, wand in hand. 

“Harry?” She saw him on the bed, unfocused and apparently unharmed as well, obvious signs that her son had just woken up. After briefly checking that no stranger was lurking in the room and that her boy was safe, she took in Harry, whose breath became slower and slower as the glassy green eyes grew more and more focused.

The realization came instantly in her mind.

She was on the boy's side in an instant. “Oh baby, it's okay. Breathe in. Good, now out.” The woman wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. “Everything is fine. You're here with me. It's alright. It's alright.”

“Mum...”

“Harry, are you okay?”

Listening to his mother's voice triggered something inside his agitated mind. He knew he was awake, he knew the feeling of lethargy and asphyxia had not been real. But hearing her had the effect of a warm shower soothing away all his fears in the blink of an eye.

“I'm fine. It was just...” A dream? A nightmare? No, the images was too vivid to just be a reflection of his bleak imagination. Lily noticed the pause. “Another one? A vision, I mean.”

“I don't know,” Harry said, and he wasn't lying. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The sincere worry on her face brought a smile on his lips. She and James were used to their son screaming while sleeping, or him suddenly collapsing on the ground when the ability Harry was cursed with since his birth took over his entire body. He shook his head. “It was nothing, I think. I remember darkness, an oppressing dark magic, but… everything was blurry and… ugh. Maybe it's nothing. I'm not sure if it was a vision or not.”

“Okay,” she nodded and didn't pursue the conversation further. Her hand ran through his wavy hair in a soothing gesture. 

It was a blessing for Harry to have a family that could understand his need for privacy when it came to the Sight. They knew how the visions could be mentally harmful and tiring, especially when it showed scenes related to Death, or something relatively horrible bound to happen in the future. Harry lived those Sights more than he saw them. And he could tell they were becoming more violent as the days passed. They were told the rebels started to strike fiercer against their Lord's authority, their personal vendetta turning into terroristic actions in their haste for revenge, causing even more ruins and pile of deaths in their paths.

This vision though… It had been awfully personal.

Her smile returned. “Allen and your father are downstairs. Do you still want to accompany your brother with us today?”

“I promised I would be here this time.”

“He will understand if you-”

“Mum, I'm fine really. Besides, I want to be here to see the rascal depart for his fourth year to Hogwarts. It is a special occasion after all.”

She sighed, “If you say so. You better hurry or there won't be any toast left.” 

A chuckle escaped her when she heard the eighteen year old boy grumble under his breath. After sending the grown boy another worry look, Lily kissed him on the forehead and left the room.

Still haunted by the last vision, he left the bed and walked to the bathroom to wash his face and forget what he saw. It was not like the previous visions he used to had. The dreams usually came in scenes where he stood in the background as an invisible spectator watching the future that had yet to happen. But this one… this one had taken a very personal aspect; he didn't saw himself or another stranger in this room, he lived the moment wholly as though it was real. 

With a sigh, Harry finished washing up and put on the clothes from the previous day, unbothered by the familiar body odour that had yet to smell, and rushed downstairs in the kitchen where his little brother was about to claim the last toast. 

* * *

King Cross station was largely crowded, as it always was on the first of September each year. Parents and children were present, even the younger ones that was not of legal age to attend Hogwarts yet. Allen had been ecstatic all morning forth for this moment, even though he experienced it three times already. He met some of his parents acquaintances and politely smiled at the many obvious stares that lingered onto his presence like vicious raptors.

He was the infamous first born Potter squib, after all. 

The poor, poor boy whose rights to the inheritance had been snatched away from him since any self-respecting noble family would absolutely not have a disgraceful squib to lead their bloodline, of course.

Although that was completely wrong, because Harry was the one who refused the Potter's legacy. He had to work very hard and verbally fight his father for months before he had managed to convince him to bequeath the inheritance to Allen. Harry didn't want to bother with something that he knew would cause myriad of uproars over the wizarding world, and that no one following pureblood traditions and especially Voldemort's view was going to accept. 

But most of the stares he got over the years turned into something even more irritating for the eighteen boy. What was previously disdain had quickly vanished for what Harry perceived as _pity_. They were pitying _him_ , Harry James Potter, because even though he got the looks of a handsome man possessing a stunning beauty competing with those of the pompous pureblood wizards, he would never be able to take up the Potter's legacy. 

_'Too bad…'_

_'I would've married him to my beautiful daughter, were he to have a sliver of magic…'_

_'Did you see those eyes?'_

_'Merlin, what a waste.'_

Harry sincerely didn't care.

Since he got over the fact that he would never ever possess magic, he had decided to simply accept it. It was utterly no use having hopes for something he knew was impossible. Magic was not an option for a Seer– everyone was aware of this fact. And it was the most absurd thing Harry came across with in his entire existence, to be denied of what could have been his happiness for another gift he never asked for.

If he had to choose, Harry'd have gotten rid of this cursed Sight and embraced Magic right away without a second thought.

One person out of ten millions possessed the Sight in the Wizarding world, minor fortune-tellers like the famous Trelawney Family aside. It was a gift everybody wanted their hands on, thus the reason why they were so hard to find, as Seers were more likely to be thoroughly used their whole life for the benefit of others without being given the choice. Their names, their faces, their existence would be known to the public until their death while they would be forced to See and spill out every vision they'd have. 

Thus, the self reclusion of Harry who chose to get away from all that had anything to do with the Wizarding world, including his family. 

“Harry!” 

Allen found his usual group of friends that looked up at his older brother with curiosity.

“Are you all ready to accomplish mountains of mischiefs this year too?” he asked with a knowing smile that was immediately reciprocated by the two other boys- plus a girl. 

“Dad taught me a spell that can grow your hair and nails ten times their size per second.”

“Mine taught me how to enchant a broom to fly backward!” the girl grinned proudly, and Harry couldn't help but raise an amused eyebrow that flew above the hem of his glasses. 

“… I must say, I'm puzzled about how Headmaster Snape hadn't expelled the four of you as of yet. I mean, he must know the kind of sly little pranksters you are. He hates you since day one -especially you Allen- and you're still breathing and freely wandering around the castle? Did you guys spiked his tea? Did you threatened the old bat? What is your secret?”

Allen had the same smirk than his godfather when Sirius just accomplished one of his nasty pranks he was immensely proud of. “We have dad to thank for this. His map is the craziest thing in the world.”

“And I still can't believe he gave it to you last year,” Harry sighed. “Don't rely on it too much though. And you better not have mum find out about it Al'.”

“Find out about what?”

All of them froze, except Harry, who relished in the horrified expression that voice provoked to the children's face, and whose smirk lightened into a faux smile before he turned to his mother. “Mum! Perfect timing, I was looking for you.”

“I was greeting Alice's cousin,” Lily vaguely brushed off, “Find out about what?” she insisted.

“Oh, nothing. Allen has found a new nickname for Headmaster Snape. It's a mixture between a stinky toad and a troll's wrinkled balls. Wanna hear it?” He grinned, paying no heed to the look of betrayal his brother gave him, soon followed by an offensive glare.

Lily wasn't amused. In fact, her scowl immediately reached Allen as she turned to his second son, obvious anger on her angelic face. 

“ _Allen Edmund Potter_ , what have I told you about respecting the headmaster? Severus is a close friend of mine, whether your father and Sirius hate him or not, and I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour in my presence!”

“But mum—“

She cut him off with another scold of hers that made Harry want to laugh but he suppressed it instantly. It continued until James joined them after bidding some of his friends goodbye. Upon hearing the cause of his wife's ire, James unsurprisingly took Allen's side by listing all of the reasons why Severus Snape deserved to be crushed by an army of hippogriffs all the while fuelling Lily's anger to the point of almost getting hexed by the red-head woman in public. 

The rest of the day passed swiftly. The train came on time and students of all years started to board it after hugging their parents one last time. Allen embraced his brother like he was squeezing the life out of him, making Harry laugh above his head. “Hey, I'm not going to disappear you know.”

“I will miss you.”

He took comfort in the sincerity of these words.

“I know. I will miss you too.”

“Are you going back to the muggle London today?”

“Yes.” The grip around his midsection tightened. 

“Come visit us at Christmas.” Harry chuckled a little, his face and eyes warming at the unexpected, but not unfamiliar affection Allen gave him.

Ruffling the hair of the smaller boy, Harry hugged him back with as much strength as his sibling. “I will,” he promised softly. 

Ten minutes later, the train departed and after five more minutes the wizards began to leave the station. The three of them were among the last to Apparate.

Lily wrapped an arm around her son's shoulder as soon as their feet touched the manor's ground. “Do you have a lot to pack before leaving?”

“Not much. I'll be fine don't worry.”

He was ready half an hour later. He knew his mother didn't want him to go. Even James seemed about to protest when he stood in the doorway with his luggage, ready to leave any second, only to have his foot heavily crushed under his wife's heel when his mouth opened. They hugged for a long time, Lily's constant warning to be safe and not to hesitate to come back or call at the first sign of problem perfectly clear in his mind now that he heard it for the hundredth time.

He basked in their unconditional love for a long, long minute. Then he took the small Apparating coin that only a Potter could use and disappear in a pop.

The last thing he saw was the loving face of his mother and the proud smile of his father, before the sensation of a black hole engulfed the world along with him away from his family. 

* * *

  
_Two months later_

“I can't believe it. Three essays in less than a month! Do they want our death or what?!”

“This is what you signed for, remember?” Harry retorted amusedly while sipping the milkshake he bought from the fast-food they left one minute ago. Thomas frowned into the sheets he was holding while walking alongside Harry. 

“Well, I didn't signed to be on homework overdose. I'm sorry but completing all three essays in such a short period of time is theoretically impossible. I'm out.”

“So are your grades if you're just going to hand in blank paper.”

“Hey!”

“Don't worry, I'm sure you can pass the economics with a draft if you spend more time on the philosophy subject. Mrs. Kelly isn't that severe when it comes to grades.”

Thomas let out a relieved breath. The two had to stop before a pedestrian crossing as cars passed them in high-speed. It has been a little more than ten weeks since Allen went to his fourth year at Hogwarts, and Harry was more than excited to read what his little brother had to tell in his letter— because Harry knew there would be a letter waiting for him when he would come home later. There always was one at the end of the week. 

He could never quieten the interest glooming from the depths of his heart when Allen talked about Hogwarts, about its numerous secrets passages and how the castle was bathing in Magic from the lower dungeons to the top of the highest tower. The image of the Gryffindor dormitory came to his dreams more than once. Harry already imagined himself there, in the four poster bed with his wizard friends inside the bedroom basked in red and gold, the amazing view of the Quidditch pitch visible through the windows. He'd imagined himself in the Great Halls with the magical ceiling showing the weather from outside and the hundred exquisite plates dressed on the tables. 

The tales of his father when James was still a student here made his heart beat with a furious envy, making Harry cry more than once at the time he was still a little boy.

Harry didn't cry anymore though. This world, even though he could see and feel the magic, was not a part of him. And even if Harry was sometimes watching his family with jealousy, he couldn't keep himself from being honestly happy that Allen could experiment an existence surrounded by Magic.

“I'm so jealous,” Thomas sighed as they crossed the street. “You don't seem to struggle in any class and you get top marks at almost every exams! What is your secret, Harry? Tell me!”

“I am studiously working on every of my lessons unlike the lazy ass you are, that is my secret.”

“You prick!”

He laughed, ducking forward when his friend tried to hit him on the head. 

When the moment for them to part arrived, Harry waved Thomas goodbye before he resumed his walk to his flat.

Harry was kind of emancipated since his seventeenth birthday. He always had attended muggle schools, not wanting to wander around the magical world to get pitying gazes everywhere he would go. And it was the only way to prevent his Sight not to get known accidentally. 

Having his secret found out was one of his biggest fears. Even his family would not be able to help him, were he to be assaulted by the entire wizarding world for his gift. Especially if Voldemort himself was assuredly going to take an interest. And catching a Dark Lord's interest was the last thing one would want. Don't get him wrong, Harry did not give a single care about their current Lord presenting as the Minister of Magic.

The war ended ages ago when he was freshly pulled out of his mother's womb. He knew James and Lily, and many other magical families had broken up with the Resistance to save their children when they came to realize that the light side was losing. True to his words, Voldemort spared those who had decided to submit and swore to never join Dumbledore again.

Harry was fine with that. He was thankful to his parents for giving him the opportunity to live a normal life even though he has been diagnosed as a Squib. He was thankful Allen could laugh and live happily with his friends at Hogwarts without worrying about fighting a Dark lord and whatnots. 

Besides, even if there were some flaws in Voldemort's reign, Harry couldn't deny the system proved itself to be quite efficient. Maybe tough and close to a tyranny once in a while, but the people in England were relatively free and more than relieved with this fact. 

You just had to avoid attracting Voldemort's wrath, or his Death Eater's, and you'd be more or less fine. 

A flash of light in his viewing range made Harry's steps come to a halt. Another one took him out of his melancholic thoughts, and a third had him running in the direction of what he knew was a display of magic. The muggles around didn't show any signs of alarm, just walking on the streets without knowing what was happening right before their eyes. 

He ran towards the source of the last red flash, stopping in front of a dark alley. The magic in the air smelt vile and heavy, too dangerous.

Dark magic.

It was impossible. What were wizards doing in the muggle world, sending each other hexes that could easily hit innocent people? 

Stopping in his tracks, Harry caught a glimpse of a man running down the alley at the same time Apparating sounds rose from the sky. Looking up, Harry watched as wizards in dark robes on brooms quickly flew after their prey who vainly tried to chase them away with their wand. 

It was not his business, really. Harry went to the muggle world to avoid any confrontations like this. He didn't want to meddle with wizarding bullshit when he could be at peace and ignore all of this. 

But still.

It seemed dangerous. Muggles could die without knowing what hit them, and the magical community was going to be in trouble if it were to really happen. Even without magic, surely he would be able to do something. Maybe slow the man down? Or help him if he was unjustly treated as a criminal, as were numerous people Death Eaters used to persecute daily. 

Making his final decision, Harry started to enter the chase too. Even powerless, he knew he was an incredible runner himself and reached the man in no time just before one of the Death Eaters could hit him with a bone-breaking curse. As soon as he grabbed the presumed victim, Harry rolled them both on the ground until their body came crashing over a pile of garbage. 

Wooden boxes and polystyrene chunks splattered at the impact. The man grunted under his breath. Their fall did not spare Harry either; he felt pieces of broken wood pierce his skin through the wool coat and he let out a small whimper. 

“Fuck. Ugh- Are you alri—” 

He had no time to finish. As soon as his hand touched the man's skin, he was swallowed by a dark fog that gripped his soul through his flesh like a layer of acid covering him on every sides of his body. His senses were totally obstructed by the black screen of the hallucination, and yet he knew the air all around him in this dark illusion he was suddenly plunged in, had a fragrance thoroughly putrid. 

Black. Viscous. Vile. 

He saw images of unknown little girls no more than nine or ten, in the streets, in Diagon Alley, in a foreign country Harry couldn't recognize. He felt the need, the temptation. The unstoppable want. He had to… _He **needed** to…!_— He saw blood. Knife carving into flesh like it was nothing. Screams. Tears. Rough breathing. Rumpled skin against tender skin. Blood again. Sickening sounds of what Harry would've never wanted to visualize. 

Nausea coiled around his stomach, turning his insides into boiling flesh before moving up his throat without warning. Harry came out of his trance just in time to throw up on another pile of trashes.

He had to get rid of the taste of evilness and depravity flooding his mouth. It was not a vision of the future. What he saw… This man had committed all of that already. He… _Oh god_. Stumbling on his feet, Harry reached the brick wall to steady himself while he vomited another load of bile. He didn't knew he was crying until he felt warm streaks running down his face. 

He heard steps coming right where they were, but the boy was still too shaken to do anything. He wanted to forget. He wanted to disappear. 

“My, my, Bennett. Are you desperate to the point of involving a useless mudblood?” a feminine voice rose in the air, followed by a devilish cackling. 

“F...fuck you..!”

“You gave us quite the chase, and now we will have to take care of that too,” the female said and Harry had no doubt 'that' designated him. And just when he thought so, he felt a hand slide on his scalp with fake kindness, before the fist closed and roughly forced the boy's head up. 

Long, black curls brushed against his nose and cheeks while emerald eyes met dark orbs shining with excitement and madness. Harry's breath got stuck when he recognized Voldemort's right hand and most loyal servant, just a few centimetres from his breathing space, holding him in a deadly grip that could surely reap his hair off the scalp in a single move.

“Oh, look at this… My poor baby. I feel almost bad, having to kill such a stunning boy.” She sighed tragically. Her wand pressed under his chin without warning. The previous mask of a saddened woman quickly changed into a devious smirk that sent a chill up to Harry's neck. “Don't worry baby, I will avenge you as soon as I get my hands on filthy Benny.”

When she was about to pronounce the fatal incantation, Harry managed to retrieve his voice. “W-Wait…! Please— I'm not… a muggle!”

There was silence, until a dreadful laugh tore the air as the witch lost herself in another fit of craziness. He heard several Death Eaters join her, none of them taking him seriously. 

“What a little mudblood like you would do among muggles if not a muggle yourself? Our Lord forbade all wizards to come and go here without official authorisation from the Ministry. You, stupid boy. You just have condemned yourself!” she snickered. “Now we have to take you along with filthy Benny here. Our Lord will be so happy. Two criminals in one go!”

“I-I'm a squib,” Harry managed to articulate. 

That had the effect to shut them up instantly. One of the Death Eaters looked at Harry, taking the time to observe his features with the eye of a scientist, as if trying to solve the puzzle his face seemed to be. “Now that I look at it, his face does ring a bell.”

Bellatrix refocused her attention on the boy she was holding. “You. What is your name?” 

Harry wanted to let a breath of relief out. That question was going to save his life today. “Harry. Harry Potter.”

Numerous gasps travelled among the group of Death Eaters at the name they recognized immediately. The shock on Bellatrix's face was his only delight before the witch threw another load of irritating giggles, grabbing Harry even harder. “The Potter squib!” she shrieked blissfully, “we've caught the Potter squib!”

“Ha? Is it really him?”

He tried to fight against her grip, to no avail. “Yes, it is.” He had no time to waste talking with Death Eaters. “I'm sorry for interrupting your duty, I was just afraid for the people there. Now please, can you let go of me? I don't want to keep you from arresting this man,” he said, almost spitting the last word. 

He was less than a man. He was a monster. Harry really hoped he would be Kissed if he were to have a trial as soon as he'd set foot at the Ministry. Unfortunately for the boy, the witch appeared to have another idea in mind. “Now, now. Not so fast!”

“What?”

“You have broken the law by going beyond the world of wizards,” another wizard replied without as much emotions as Bellatrix. “You must be judged.”

Harry gaped. “I am a _squib_!”

There was no way he was being tried because he, a Potter without any magic nor value if one disregarded the fact he was a Seer, decided to live in the muggle world which he thought fitted him more than the wizarding one.

Wizards did not care about squibs. They were useless. Worthless. A burden. They were underneath house elves magically speaking, and no one would take a second glance at them because of their incompatibility with what made a Wizard, a _Wizard_.

“Squibs are wizards, as pathetic as they can be. Therefore you are not above the law, Potter,” he finished, smirking at him like he knew what was going through the boy's mind. “Bellatrix, if you must.”

“Do not order me Rabs,” she spat viciously, and then turned to Harry and brightened up. “Come along, little Potty!”

“Wait— No! I have to—” 

Harry did not have the time to express his protests, the feeling of Apparition locked a breath in his lungs. He felt himself being sucked into the atmosphere, leaving nothing behind, but an empty alley without any sign of their presence. 

-#-

The crossing through space didn't last long. After what seemed to be a couple of seconds, Harry's feet touched the ground and he tripped under the after-effect of Apparition. Somehow, he found himself holding Bellatrix's arm instead of the opposite, to keep himself from miserably trip up on the floor. He'd rarely Apparated in his life, having no magic and only spending a little time in the magical world since he's eleven. Air filled his lungs again, and Harry exhaled a long breath of relief before remembering what situation he was in. 

He did not recognize the surroundings. They were in a kind of lobby similar to the one in Potter manor, except this one was bigger. Darker. He could feel a tremendous burst of magic coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, constantly filling the small room they Apparated in. It was really hard to breathe. Cold sweat descended down his spine at the amount of pressure the atmosphere appeared to be soaked in. 

They were only four Death Eaters with him, plus the man called Bennett, tied by a powerful Incarcerous spell. An unknown manor. Dark Magic covering the walls and the air. An aura of power beyond what people could even imagine. There was only one place Harry could think of. A sudden weight settled into his guts as panic kicked in fast.

Before Harry voiced the rest of his protests, Bellatrix screeched, “Tiky!”

The popping sound of the house-elf appearing in front of them echoed in the lobby. “Welcome sirs! W-what Tiky can do for Mistress Bellatrix?”

“Notify the Dark Lord of our arrival, and tell him we came with a gift.” She eyed Harry with a dangerous glint. “Make that two gifts.”

“Tiky be going to warn Master immediately!” With that, the elf vanished in another pop. 

Harry did not have the opportunity to ask what he was doing here, instead of the Ministry where Bennett and him should have been to be tried. The witch caught his arm once again and dragged him through the long corridors, in which walls and paints were just as impressive as the few decorations in the vestibule. The heavy pressure didn't diminished as they walked deeper in the manor. On the contrary, the Magic grew fiercer at each steps they took in direction of where the owner of the place probably was.

“Let me go! I have nothing to do here!”

“Hush, pretty boy.”

“I want to see my family!” That earned him a snort from another death eater, the one tugging a semi-conscious Bennett. 

The last door opened before them like a silent invitation to enter, which Bellatrix accepted forthwith, immediately followed by the other men. They were in what appeared to be a sort of a throne room. It was principally empty except for the marble pillars lined up on the sides and the long, dark green carpet tracing a way to the steps leading to a stone throne in the middle.

Banners coloured in green and silver, with black snakes embroidered on the canvas were suspended to the walls, intentionally displaying the proud House and lineage of the manor's owner who currently sat on the throne with an enormous, real snake encircling the large chair while its head laid on the man's laps. 

Lord Voldemort was just there, a few feet away from him with an expression of boredom that he would never have imagined fitting the picture of the man dominating the entire wizarding community of England. Harry saw him a few times on the Daily Prophet as well as some official books narrating the Dark Lord's exploit preceding his impressive assumption of power less than twenty years ago. 

He was exactly like he had appeared on the newspapers since Harry could read. In his thirties, dark brown hair falling in neat waves on the side of his face. Perfectly curved nose, solid jaws holding his pink lips shut, without a doubt locking what surely was a soothing, baritone sound. Crimson eyes pierced whoever met the ruthless orbs, breaking through the flesh until they reached the bones of those unfortunate souls. He could not see it, but he could feel. The Magic. It came from him, the power engulfing every part of the manor. One of the darkest, powerful show of Magic he had ever seen, ever tasted in his life. 

Unable to stand much more pressure in presence of the most powerful Wizard in Europe- if not in the World- Harry's legs gave in. Bellatrix let him fall pathetically on the ground as she bowed gracefully, something the teen had never thought her capable of. 

“My Lord,” she greeted with utmost respect. The others behind did the same. 

Voldemort's red orbs assessed his most loyal servants from where he sat. Hid hand caressed the head of the huge snake who, were it to be a cat, Harry was sure would be purring right now. Instead, soft hisses emanated from the reptile, only sign of the snake's pleasure of being petted. 

“Bella,” Voldemort drawled lazily, taking in the sight of the two prisoners brought in in front of him. “I see that you have been quite busy today.”

“My Lord,” she started, still bowing to the leader of England. “Our mission regarding the capture of Murray Bennett has been hugely successful. We found him in the muggle London, roaming among the filth. After a little fight we've managed to restrain him, along with who we thought was another mudblood,” she grabbed Harry to pull him toward the Dark Lord, “I don't know what business he had with Bennett, but he certainly had been a surprising help for us in the end.”

“Who is he?”

Still greatly affected by the magic, Harry tried to speak, only for the witch to silent him with a warning grip on his hair. He could feel the smirk when she replied, “Harry Potter, my Lord. The infamous Potter squib everyone has been talking about for the last few years.”

Harry wanted to snort. He didn't know people had been talking about him for years. He was aware there were rumours spreading across the magical world since the discovery of the unfortunate lack of magic, but to go as far as making him a subject worth the conversation of chatty wizards… he could not believe it.

“Rise, Bella.” She did so almost instantly. “Avery, bring me Bennett.”

The tied up criminal was unceremoniously thrown at Voldemort's feet, who waste no time waking up the man with a quick 'Enervate'. His body was shaken with small spasms for a second.

Harry watched as the man slowly noticed his inability to move even a single finger. Bennett's unfocused eyes then met the face impassively staring at him from above and he froze on the ground. 

“M-M...My Lord…!”

“Good evening, Bennett. It has been a while since we last met, hasn't it?”

“My… my Lord, I… I did not—”

“Silence.”

Then, quietly, very slowly, Voldemort made a motion to stand up. The large snake also lifted its head from his laps, as though conscious of the weight restraining its master's moves. Harry could not look at the Dark Lord, essentially because of the overwhelming fear gripping his soul from inside, and because the amount of pressure around the room made it impossible for him to properly stand up on his feet. But he was able to discern the long and slender body hidden beneath the layer of black clothes. Every motions he executed was smooth, refined, proving a certain agility that was part of his entire being, without a doubt possessing an impressive physical strength despite the appearances. 

One step at a time, a long ebony wand in hand, Voldemort approached the quivering man. 

“You have failed me more than once, Murray.” He drew a circle around him, keeping his pace slow, giving the slightest impression of harmlessness. Which was clearly deceitful. 

“I have demoted you from my ranks after your endless failures as a Death Eater, and now, regardless of my forbearance about your little… _activities_ , you chose to ignore my warnings, let your repulsive desires get the best of you and went after preys out of your reach.”

He stopped in front of the man. “The Greengrasses want your blood. And who am I to deny them the right to torture the vermin responsible of their youngest child's insanity?”

“No… I didn't want to… I s-swear! I didn't know… I didn't...”

“ _Crucio_.”

Screams ripped the air off for a while. The magic surrounding them went suddenly berserk, the most obscure power feasting onto the excruciating pain inflicted by one of its derivative in the form of a simple spell. The air got thicker as the incantation lasted. Maybe it was the consequences of staying too long in an environment devoid of any magic that caused Harry to be so much affected by it now that he was engulfed in witchcraft. Heavy pants escaped his lips while he tried to gloss over the howls, but came unsuccessful. 

Something stirred inside, like a familiar sensation drowning him from head to toes. He knew this magic. He felt it before. Tasted it, even. Where? How? It was the first time he was in the presence of the Dark Lord. He had never been near dark families in his life, except at the Yule party hosted by the Malfoys several years back. 

A stench of sweat and urine came flooding his system, making Harry retch while he tried to catch his breath. It was like an invisible weight that kept crushing onto him mercilessly, like the air became a massive fog invading his mouth, burning his throat as if a fire went through it down his heart. So dark. Darker than Bennett's vileness. Darker than the abyss of the humanity's heinous sins. 

Voldemort lowered the wand, ending the curse after an eternity of deafening suffering. 

“Do not worry, I don't intend to kill you. The Greengrasses will be thoroughly elated to play with you until you can't think of anything else but excruciating pain days and nights without any rest.”

“P-please…!”

“ _Intra Incendio._ ”

The screams returned as Murray suddenly writhed on the floor, twisting his body to try and get away from the atrocious pain compressing him from all sides. The sounds were soon joined by Bellatrix's cackle piercing through the air in a symphony of delighted madness. 

If Harry had not thrown up earlier, he would have now. It was pure torture. He did not want to be here, watching Bennett thrash violently like a fish out of water. Spells after spells, the criminal became a human music-box which only melody was the rasping cries coming out of his throat, broken by the perpetual agony.

After a long while, Voldemort finally temporarily released the man from his suffering. 

“Get him out of my sight. Put him in a cell and make preparation for his execution. The Greengrass family will have the honour of hosting the show. Rodolphus, go tell them.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The two brothers and Avery immediately bowed and turned to the exit before passing the door with Bennett, whose body left trails of blood and piss behind. 

Only Bellatrix remained, and Harry who was still unable to endure the insatiable power filling the air. It was suffocating. He did not want to be here. He did not understand why Bellatrix brought him in this place, if not to be constantly tortured like Bennett just now. The thought of himself squirming like a madman on the floor by the wand of Voldemort sent violent bursts of shiver coursing through his spin. 

He was not prepared for the sudden grip on his chin that forced his head up. Emerald clashed with crimson. A gasp escaped the boy's lips at the unexpected intensity with which those orbs were piercing his skin. The simple touch of the man was almost unbearable for a non-magic being like him.

Shaking frantically from head to toes, Harry unconsciously attempted a slight retreat, only to be held in place by the unrelenting hand. 

“Harry Potter...”

His name uttered by the smooth voice made something twist internally. He'd heard this voice somewhere. He'd known this magic. Something was wrong. His stomach knotted.

Voldemort's gaze took in his form up and down, then stopped at his face, which he kept staring at wordlessly. “The squib.”

“The one and only,” the witch crooned. 

Avoiding the gleaming red gaze proved to be difficult, as was stepping back from his clutch. “P-please, I want to go back to my family—”

“Be quiet.”

He moved Harry's face on the sides, observing carefully all of his features like a special specimen. It was so terrifying, it made Harry burning with the need to run away. “What was he doing in the muggle streets?”

“I have no clue, my Lord. I thought you would want the honour of asking him yourself.”

After an agonising minute of silence, Voldemort replied, “Indeed.”

Catching the tendrils of power waving around him like a silent order, the boy complied without resistance. “I-I live with the muggles. I am a squib so I... don't want to stay in a community that belittles people like me and where I would be totally useless without magic.”

“Squibs are wizards too,” the Dark Lord simply stated. Harry looked up suddenly, anger rising from inside.

 _How dared he._ Voldemort knew perfectly well the conditions under which every wizards considered as worthless were reduced to. No one cared for them, it was a fact even more accurate since the Dark Lord became the leading figure of the magical community. 

“So I heard,” Harry bit out, “but when are we treated as such?” 

Maybe his spite hadn't been as much reduced as he wanted, for he heard Bellatrix gasp in his back. She must have been about to curse him because he saw Voldemort hold out his hand as though to stop her from doing anything. 

“I have tortured for less than that.” he chided calmly, making Harry understand that one curse or two could easily fly at any moment.

He was standing on dangerous ground. His head lowered. “I sincerely apologize, my Lord.” He forced his voice to remain steady at the end. This man was not _his_ Lord. “I understand that I overstepped my boundaries, it won't... ever happen again.”

He will just stand low for some months and then return in the muggle world as soon as Voldemort's inquiry considerably dulled. The pressure on his chin grew firmer.

Harry looked up once again, trying to diminish the strong rebellion he knew was still etched into his eyes. He froze when he saw the blazing orbs staring right at him, intense. Heavy. Immediately, Harry felt a probing poke inside his mind that quickly escalated into a sudden pressure right into the skull.

The mental barriers settled automatically against the intrusion attempt. Then the slight pressure grew into a violent push that met an invisible obstacle neither he nor Harry were prepared for.

The impact of the presence strongly resolute to penetrate his mind against the mental walls provoked an unforeseen reaction that completely threw Voldemort out of Harry's head. The rejection he felt from his own mind sent Harry on his knees, experimenting legilimency for the very first time. 

“My Lord!” Bellatrix raised her wand towards the squib before reluctantly lowering it when Voldemort once again stopped the female Death Eater.

Only now did he remember the books he'd read about Seers and their natural occlumency, preventing malevolent wizards from penetrating their mind. It was the only consolation one cursed with the Sight could ever get. 

“An Occlumens... And so young, at that. How peculiar.”

Voldemort circled Harry like the predator he was. “How did you master it? Who taught you? Answer me.”

“I- No one taught me, my Lord.”

“ _Lies_.” The sight of the ebony wand back in the Dark Lord's hand sent Harry a vision of horror. He recoiled backwards, eyes not drifting from the magical weapon he had once dreamed of possessing. He would never get one. Harry will always be deprived of this privilege, and it was fine by him. It was fine. 

“I'm a natural. I have it since my birth. I, this is the first time someone tries to pass through my barriers, I swear.”

“My Lord, allow me to persuade Squibby Potty to loosen his tongue.”

Voldemort had the head tilted to the side, gaze not leaving the captive while reflecting about the amusing offer his most faithful servant seemed more than ready to execute. 

“Now, now, Bella. Maybe the boy is right. I suppose things like this happen.”

“Yes, it happens,” Harry pressed. He did not want to be here anymore. Let them take him on trial or whatever. Anywhere away from the presence of Voldemort would be a more than welcomed solace. “So please, let me go. I won't go in the muggle world again. I will not break the law anymore. You won't see me again, I promise. Just let me go back to my family.”

A hand caught him on the chin for the second time. Fearing another attempt of legilimency Harry closed his eyes shut. He could not see it, but he could feel the lingering gaze exploring his face. When the fingers on the jaws began to ruthlessly sink into the skin, Harry understood the silent command and forced his eyes open, directly confronting the gleaming gaze that had yet to release him. Again, the magic surrounding both of them grew fiercer, wriggled like an invisible spark and Harry felt the familiar dark breeze brushing against the shivering body.

_“Harry Potter...”_

An image of a locked room and heavy perfume flashed in his mind. A weight settled in his guts. 

“For a squib, I have to say you'd make an exquisite addition to my collection.”

Harry's breath got stuck in his throat. He lost all composure.

“What do you think, Bella?”

She smirked. “I knew he would be to your liking, my Lord.”

“W-wait... I don't—“

Voldemort was known to collect people he considered worth his attention. Many are those on whom he had imprinted his mark, many have sought to be part of it, and only a few have succeeded. Being Lord Voldemort's may be seen as the greatest privilege one could ever dream of, but Harry knew better. The ones “collected” were rarely seen in public. They were rarely seen outside. Always secured in his manor, his palace, locked in gilded cage until he got bored and ended up throwing them away. 

It was not a privilege. It was a damnation.   
As the blazing orbs stayed embedded in fearful emerald's, Harry sensed a shudder creep up his neck. An image appeared in the back of his mind. 

_A mysterious shadow slithers in and out his field of vision. He hears his breath grow faster, harder._

_'Harry.'_

No, it couldn't be…

_More warmth covers his face, fingers ghosting over the tanned skin of his cheek from behind. A breath comes tickle his earlobe in a hot brush._

He remembered. The dream. The vision. The feeling of being filled from all sides, the feeling of despair, of a voice calling his name again and again, a mantra to keep him from forgetting who he belonged to. Words carving the name of the man who owned him on his chest, his neck, his lips. His mind. 

It had been Voldemort all along. 

Oh God. 

No. 

_'You're mine.'_

NO!

“Let me go!!” Struggling against the Dark Lord, alone and powerless proved to be totally useless. Losing all composure, Harry fought body and soul to try and get away from the man whose grip remained still and resolute.

Finally, he released him and Harry faltered backwards. The momentum of his struggles had him continue his fall on the floor. He winced as he got ready for the impact, only to hit something soft and steady that cushioned his slump. 

Something that hissed in his ear and made Harry immediately scrambling on his feet to get away from the large snake he didn't hear approaching. Hands grasped him from behind before Harry could go any further. A soft breath caressed his ear as he felt the man lean over him, fingers ghosting over his neck. 

“My, you're a feisty little one, aren't you?”

“Please, let me go. I have nothing to do here, just let me go. I'm just a squib damn it!” Never in his life he'd thought he would use this degrading title to save himself.

“Now, Harry. It would be a waste to let such an interesting specimen like you go.” A twist of his hand had two Death Eaters enter the room after less than fifteen seconds. He threw Harry at them, smirk in place. “Lead the boy to one of the guest rooms. I will deal with him later.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“NO!”

Two pairs of arms grabbed him from each sides. Harry started to struggle more violently than before as he was being forcefully dragged out of the room. It was a nightmare. There was no way he would let them..! He was just going home after another normal day at university! He didn't intend to get involved in a manhunt in the middle of a muggle street! 

“Please no!!”

He did not know Bellatrix was part of the unit. He didn't know her eccentricity would cause her to bring him with them. He fucking did not See that coming! Of all things this damn curse had to show him, why didn't it give Harry the vision of what was going to occur today?

It was so unfair. 

They passed the doors with the teen writhing like crazy, yelling and fighting all he could. They were in the middle of the corridor when he managed to land a hit on a Death Eater's shin. The man grunted and let go of him almost instantly. Recalling one of the moves James taught him when he was younger, Harry wasted no time tackling the second man on the floor, striking him in the face once, before scurrying down the hallway. 

Yells arose behind the teen, but he kept running to the familiar hallways, going for the lobby where Bellatrix Apparated him earlier. 

Anti-Apparition wards were up, there was no doubt about it. But there was a chance Voldemort may not have put up the wards in the foyer since the summon of the last two Death Eaters. 

Ducking forward when several stunning spells narrowly missed their intended target, Harry threw himself inside the small room. Unable to perceive if the wards were activated there, he could do nothing but try his luck as he clutched the modified Galleon hidden in the jeans pocket. 

Even as a squib, he could feel the small pulses of magic coming from the golden coin. 

Sprawled on the floor, he gripped the Galleon at the same time he felt the air shift at the doorway. Emerald orbs met gleaming crimson for a second that seemed to last an eternity. It was the last thing he saw before the portkey enveloped him into an invisible whirlwind, taking him away from the most dangerous man in Europe. 

* * *

He Apparated in Potter manor in a dishevelled state, heart pummelling againsit chest. He had to summon the last of his strength in order to stand up. The toxicity of dark magic on the skin like a poisonous cotton veil had yet to disappear. It was as if he'd never left Voldemort's home. As if the man's magic was imprinted on him, continuously tying them both together. That thought made him internally jolt.

Ignoring the burning of his lungs, Harry yelled the name of their house-elf, who popped up in no time to greet him.

“Welcome home, master Ha— _Master Harry?_ ” she shrieked in panic as soon as she noticed Harry's condition. The boy had not time to explain. He breathed with great difficulty, “Sally, where are my parents?”

“M-master James be at the Department of Aurors. Mistress L-Lily be visiting the Longbottoms f-for the day!”

“Go tell them there is an emergency. _Now_!”

“Y-yes! Sally is going!”

He kept running through the manor until he reached the bedroom that had been his for a long time before he'd decided to get away from all of this. He picked up a duffel bag in the closet.

There were so much things to take, so much things to leave behind. So much things to get rid of so that no traces remained. Everything related to the muggle world and his schooling, Harry put them in a plastic bag he intended to throw in the fireplace later. All of the pictures magically enchanted or not were packed. They were the only souvenirs that would keep Harry tied to his most loved ones during his prolonged escapade.

He couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. He did not want to. But the choice had been reaped out from him since the revelation of the vision.

Tears came flowing down his face while Harry busied himself with all the belongings he was going to take back to the muggle world.

He was so angry.

Angry at himself because one single mistake on his part had led to this disastrous situation, forcing him to leave everything behind. Angry at Bellatrix because she'd been the one to bring him to the Dark Lord. Angry at Voldemort because the man acted like he owned everything, from the wizarding community to the people living here. Because he did not give a single care about people like him, but suddenly butted in their business whenever he wanted as soon as he considered them worthy of his interest.

An interest Harry loathed deeply.

But above all, Harry was beyond scared. Scared of what the Dark Lord would do if he were to give him a chase. Scared of how, in the limitless restraints he possessed, Voldemort would proceed to retrieve who he inexplicably claimed as his. Scared of the secret he could find out in the middle of investigation about Harry Potter and his family.

Running away won't be enough. The boy had to disappear completely.

Lily was the first to barge into the bedroom, worry painted all over her face. The place was utterly chaotic. Clothes were scattered everywhere, piles of books here and there in the middle and other useless stuff filled the empty spaces on the carpet covering the floor. But the state of the room was not the cause of her pause.

Clear green eyes were fixed upon Harry's, taking in the tears she hadn't seen since her son left the magical world to the muggle school for the first time several years ago.

“Harry..?”

He met her gaze, unable to do anything but stare for a long time. When his mouth opened, the voice sounded as rough as sandpaper.

“I'm sorry.”

Lily came closer. “Harry, what happened?”

“Mum, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. This is the only way… I'm sorry—”

The rest was muffled by strong arms around his shaking body. The touch was not evil or suffocating like Voldemort's. This embrace was very warm. Sincere. It was all Harry needed at this moment. He let himself be lulled into this maternal tenderness that no spell would be able to break. He couldn't believe it was the last time he would welcome those loving arms.

When James burst in the bedroom a minute after Lily, Harry couldn't hold it any longer. He explained everything. Bennett, Bellatrix, Voldemort, the vision. They were in danger.

Lily was a crying mess at the end. As for James, he was literally shaking with fury. It was not directed at his son, Harry knew, but at the Dark Lord. They immediately understood what Harry was trying to do. What he _had_ to do.

They could not leave the manor together. Allen was safe at Hogwarts. Leaving right now would put a target on their back and the Potters would be chased down until the end. Voldemort's reign had already reached Europe, so that left America. But then again, they would not be living, but barely surviving while being constantly on guard, overtaken by the guilt of having abandoned Allen behind.

There was no other option. Harry had to go alone.

“Tell Allen not to send me any letter. I… I promise I'll contact you as soon as I can. But- not now. For a while.” For a long, long while. It would take months, if not years, before Harry make sure he's off Voldemort's radar.

Another sob escaped the woman's lips. She was desperately clinging onto her son, not ready to let him go. She would never be. Harry's heart clenched when James joined the embrace, murmuring words that were meant to reassure, maybe more to himself than his son but the effect was the same.

It was time. The coin glittered in the daylight. One touch, one word, and it would be over.

He did not want to go. He did not want to leave.

_He did not want—_

The Portkey activated.


	2. The fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the two-shot. Ready for the ride?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the "Evil Voldemort" tag? Well... here he comes.  
> Seriously though, I think I love dystopias too much. 
> 
>   
> I edited a little detail about the weather. Google told me UK used °F when a post on fb said the opposite, so I changed to °C. (better for me lol)
> 
> (ps: I don't have a beta)

Today was a snowy day. The temperature continuously dropping even though it was not December yet had been an obvious sign for every student in the castle. A set of warming charms had quickly spread among each House when the cold became unbearable as days passed. Quidditch was even more fun like this. Flying through the thin flakes falling from the sky, Allen enjoyed the taste of ice on his tongue, head lifted upwards while his friends were cheerfully spinning around him. The practice had been interrupted by the weather that had had the team quickly distracted. So instead of chasing after the quaffle and the snitch, the players were just casually flying like children around the pitch to appreciate the snow.

The red and gold attire floated in the light breeze in his back. Gazing at the sky, Allen marvelled at the endless sight above. It was like a sweet murmur beckoning anyone to come closer, to fly towards the cotton screen coloured in a light grey similar to what his brother once gave him a taste of. Something called candyfloss. A smile appeared upon his lips, only to be quickly replaced by a frown at the memory. Thinking about Harry triggered all sort of emotions lately.

It had been three weeks since he received the note from his parents, forbidding him from sending his brother letters from now on, then James and Lily had stopped sending replies after that. It had been driving Allen crazy for days.

Having no idea on what was going on kept him unfocused for most of his classes, to the point of getting two detentions by the Defence and Ancient Runes teachers. The headmaster had been extremely ecstatic when he'd heard about it, and deviously removed plenty of house points and adding another detention in order to, he quotes, “ _help him clear his mind while having the opportunity of being useful and not actually a burden for once._ ”

It was so unfair. There was nothing worse than cleaning dozen of shitty toilets and cauldrons by hand, and wandering in the forest at night to retrieve supposedly “important” ingredients (a bunch of yellow boletuses, pixie's dung, some oak barks– and plenty other crap Snivellus could've gotten a hand on only for a bloody handful of _knuts_ — but noooo, let's send the attention-whore Potter dirty his hands and almost get crush by a troop of centaurs just to see him rightfully suffer) for Potions class! Even as a Gryffindor, his bravery had limits, thank you.

He continued to drew little circles in the sky until a sudden wheeze pulled him out of his musing. He ducked in time to avoid the bludger, barely missing his skull. Allen glared at the culprit he recognized as his Divination neighbour beside the goalposts.

“Sorry Allen, my hands slipped.”

“Take that smirk off your ugly face, Christopher, and I'll see if I believe your bullshit.”

The other's lips parted even wider. “I don't know what you're talking about?”

“Come here, you bastard!” Allen leaned forward on his broom and started a chase with his comrade which ended in a snowball fight ten minutes later.

In the end, the whole team had to take a warm shower to remove the icy feeling off their frozen skin, caused by the melting flakes on their clothes. None of them had had the brilliant idea of casting a drying charm, thus resulting to every one of them -except for the only female in the team gifted with a little more braincells- shivering and sneezing every minute when they walked into the Great Hall. The ceiling was a perfect reflection of the sky outside. The same grey, foggy screen delivering beautiful particles of white without actually falling over the students.

“Hey, Potter,” Jacob greeted and sat beside him. “Ready to crush the Slytherin team next week?”

“When am I not ready to beat those scheming snakes?”

“True, true.”

A hazel-haired girl with squared glasses perched on her nose took the seat in front of Allen, sighing heavily. “You will never believe what happened.”

“Let me guess. Did you get turned down by the handsome, good-looking, don't-talk-to-me-if-you-can't-obtain-at-least-EE-marks-Justin for the tenth time?” Jacob inquired while filling his plate with some potatoes.

“Worse! Freaky Walter asked me to be his date for the Yule ball! _Freaky Wal_ _t_ _er!_ Not only is Yule not before another month, but do you imagine one second what kind of horrible picture I had in mind at this moment?!”

“Franky is a good guy,” Allen muttered, eyeing the sandy blond-haired boy, just in time to watch him wipe his nose, look at the sticky mucus smeared on his hand, clean it off on his school robe and rake his fingers into the greasy hair as if nothing was wrong.

Having followed the line of Allen's gaze, Selene rolled her eyes. “See?”

“Well, it doesn't change the fact he _is_ a good guy.”

“Then by all means, go and date him. I'm not going to stop you.”

“I bet you won't,” Jacob laughed and Allen suppressed a sigh.

The rest of the lunch passed rather slowly. Allen used the constant buzzing of the huge hall as a background noise to divert his thought towards Harry and his family.

There had been no words from one or the other since the last letter delivered to him. All he knew was that Harry had to live somewhere else in the muggle world for a long period of time, and that the situation seemed quite serious. What kept the youngest Potter relieved to some extent, was that there was no headline titles about a Seer popping out of nowhere on the news. At least his brother's secret was safe.

But it still wasn't enough for him to vanish the worry completely out of his system.

Paying no mind to the atmosphere, Allen did not notice the background chatting abruptly coming to a halt. Hushed murmurs rose around the tables. It was only when Jacob's elbow started poking at his sides that the boy returned to reality. Raising his head from his plate, he saw Snape in front of the huge doors. The headmaster hadn't changed at all over the years at Hogwarts. He had the same hooked nose and the unchanged straight, greasy black hair falling just above the shoulders. The austerity of the whole castle could match the one emanating from the man's poise.

Such a drama queen. No wonder he was most of the student's worst nightmare. He had the appearance of a demon in a constantly-stiff skined human being.

Snape's eyes scanned the tables until they met his. The second after that, he made his way toward him. _Huh?_

The expression on the headmaster's face was anything, but reassuring. But then again, when was Snape anything other than serious and dramatically antagonistic?

“What did you do?” someone whispered sharply.

Allen shook his head. He had absolutely no clue. He'd completed his last detention the day before, and no teacher had complained about him since the beginning of the week. There was absolutely no reason for Snape to seek him out. No reason at all.

“Potter,” he called gravely as he came up behind him.

“Sir?”

The man appeared a bit pale. Paler than normal. Allen first thought it was just the usual scowl on his face emphasized by the artificial lights of the Hall, but then he saw the headmaster's jaw clench, slightly hesitating. _What_ _'s going on_ _._

“Come in my office right this instant. You are excused for the rest of your classes today.”

“Huh?”

“ _Now, Potter!_ ”

Jumping out of the bench, Allen abandoned his food and his friends to follow the headmaster across the Hall under the curious gazes of every single students. The trip through the long corridors didn't last long enough for the boy to try calming his chaotic thoughts. They were in front of the headmaster office in no time at all, and Allen had to suppress a gulp before his stomach decided to perform a set of somersaults due to stress. They entered the big room, lightened and cleaned of any dust despite all the centuries it's endured until now. The door closed up with a click. Allen was still admiring the office he'd rarely had the occasion to explore, until he became aware of the third presence calmly settled in the headmaster's chair.

A presence he would've immediately recognized, if it weren't for the strong heaviness in the air that had had the boy almost suffocating as soon as he felt it.

It was the first time Allen saw the Dark Lord this close. The countless pictures did not do him justice. The man looked genuinely better in person. More dangerous. More powerful. Not believing his eyes, the teen blinked several times before the realization hit him from inside. His legs shook under him. He couldn't help but fall on his knees under the fear and the dark magic engulfing every part of the office.

 _Now_ he understood Snape's strange behaviour.

“Allen Potter.”

“M-my… Lo...rd.” The weight of the air was such that it was impossible for him to talk properly. It didn't seem to matter to Voldemort who delicately get up from the chair and walked around the large desk.

“Let's skip the formalities to get straight to the point. I am here to question you about your brother.”

Despite the coldness submerging his body in frozen terror, Allen straightened up suddenly. “W-what?”

“Your brother, Harry Potter. I figured you parents have no clue where he is right now. So, I thought maybe the youngest son might have some ideas. Tell me, Mr. Potter.”

“I,I...”

What was happening? How… Why Voldemort wanted to know about Harry? How was he aware of his parents' lack of knowledge regarding Harry's whereabouts? He did not know what to think. Neither was he able to form a coherent response as everything became a chunk of confusion, messily interlocked in his head. He remembered the letter three weeks ago. The words telling him of something important occurring about his brother, then the silence of every member of his family that left him with nothing but worry and mysteries.

All of this was related to Voldemort. It had to. Otherwise, the dark lord would never come in person to interrogate an ordinary fourth year.

“Do you know how to speak, Mr. Potter?”

He swallowed and did his best not to look at the Dark Lord's reddish gaze as he replied, “Why do you… want to know?”

He heard a slight intake of breath somewhere behind. Probably Snape. The man grumbled something almost inaudible, but Allen managed to catch the words “stupid Gryffindor” among other mumbling.

“Curious, aren't you?”

Without lifting his head, Allen felt the man coming closer. It was like a handful of oxygen taken away at each step. “Unfortunately, your presence here is not to ask questions, but answer mine.”

One hand grabbed him by the throat without warning. Fingers sank into the skin like the claws of a hungry predator. “Tell me everything you know.”

He would not take no for an answer. Allen had absolutely no choice but to comply. Trying to gather as much air as he could between the heavy pressure of magic and the one clenched around his throat, Allen spoke, “I don't… know anything! I, I got a message… from my father three weeks… ago.”

Breathing grew harder over the seconds. “He said something about… Harry. That- that I couldn't send him letter anymore… for now. I don't know where… where he is right now, I swear!”

“Do you have an address?”

“No- I mean… Yes, but not anymore- he moved out, according... to what I've been told...”

“Show me.”

The boy found himself unable to stop the shaking of this limbs as the gleaming gaze pinned him with its intensity. He didn't want to tell the Dark Lord something that would give a lead on his brother. Harry was hiding from Voldemort, he was sure of that now. And for the sake of his family, the boy mentally swore not to help this man get his hand on Harry.

He was a fucking Gryffindor, for heaven's sake. Even shaking in fear, Allen would do anything to keep his brother safe, dark lords be damned.

“D-do you need… some paper..?” That way he could maybe _accidentally_ write the wrong number, mistaken a letter for another, or something. The dangerous smile Voldemort had on his lips told Allen he was not going to like what was to come.

“There will be no need for that.” Damn it.

“N-no..?”

“ _Legilimens_.”

No sooner had he uttered this word that he entered directly the boy's head without any resistance. Contrary to what he expected, Allen's mind was strikingly calm. The lack of protection inside made it easier for the Dark Lord to plunge even further. The minds he used to penetrated before were not as peaceful as this one. This one was like a sleeping ocean with relaxing wave effects. Everything was so bright. Snippets of memories and images appeared here and there in the mist as clear as the winter sky.

If this boy was gifted with elemental affinity, it would definitely be water.

Voldemort forced himself to pursue the goal of this intrusion. He'll have all the time to admire the rest of this pure, beautiful soul as soon as he's done chasing his little squib. He picked up random piece of memories, passing those that had nothing to do with Harry, and watched hungrily the ones containing the subject of his obsession within.

Going through the layers of images, he travelled from memory to memory which appeared in a regular chronology. The more he meddled in the most intimate moments with Allen and his family, the more he felt the surroundings wavering and the sense of alertness all around him. Good. He was close. He went into another memory. And another. Until one of them made him stop on his track and had the man totally intrigued by what he saw. The illusory mist turned into a violent, thick whirlwind as Voldemort kept watching the undisclosed secret the Potters had been hiding all those years.

He had sensed something amiss when he dived into James and Lily's heads the other day. There had been a solid wall, a barrier so thick he'd have not been able to break without breaking their mind along. And Voldemort needed the two of them intact for now.

He knew Harry was special. As soon as he met those eyes blazing in green fire, he had been aware of the boy's presence all along. The fact he'd been literally kicked out of his mind even before he could attempt the slightest intrusion had been a sign of his singularity. A sign claiming that boy had to be his.

His body began to shake with a vicious glee, taking over the agonizing cry vibrating through the destructive whirlwind. The gryffindor's subconscious was aware of the seriousness of the situation, Allen had felt the horror of the terrible secrets being ruthlessly peeled off when the Dark Lord invaded the only memory he was blocking out with all his might. Excruciating distress caused the mental place to shatter. The false sky began to tore, forming multiple cracks forming lines in every direction at breakneck speed. The wholly grey broke into pieces of glass that crumbled everywhere.

Voldemort regained the sensation of his body. The boy was left trembling on the floor, crying and sobbing in silence in his semi-consciousness. Snape had not utter a word. He stood at the corner of the office, looking completely unconcerned about what just happened, if it wasn't for the small twitch of the jaw while his gaze remained fixed on the youngest Potter.

The magic in the room was burning with exhilaration. A smile turned into a chuckle, the chuckle then turned into a burst of laughter impossible to contain for a long minute.

A Seer.

Harry Potter was a Seer.

How convenient. That was the reason Voldemort, master of Legilimency, could not penetrate a sliver of this thoughts. That was why the boy chose to live like a hermit, mingling among muggles as if he were one.

Oh, no. He would never allow it. Harry Potter was his, and it was time for the slippery little squib to accept this unspoken truth.

“Severus. I want you to gather my Inner Circle's most faithful tonight. I have a mission for all of them from today onward.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

He could run all he wanted, the boy won't be able to hide forever. But who was Voldemort to refuse a delicious little hunt?

* * *

By the time things went back to normal, winter had shown its teeth. Snow overlaid most of the town now. Going out without at least three layers of clothes was seen as significantly suicidal. The icy wind bit him on every parts he couldn't cover, and the young man had to suppress a shiver at every single cold attack. He hated winter. It was constantly grey and sad, the weather never changed, whether it rained or snowed. The sun lost all of its warmth and usefulness, especially when it turned the cotton white into absolutely disgusting brown slush.

He should have stayed in London. As cold as the capital could be, at least the climate did not drop close to -5°C every day there.

He took a long drag of a cigarette. The smoke stimulated his senses and Harry relished in the toxic warmth descending down his lungs. He couldn't distinguish the steam of breath from the tobacco smoke when it came out of his mouth. He rarely smoked before. He used to take a few drags from his friend's cigarettes to pass the time at first, but when the boredom changed to continual anxiety, Harry kept smoking like his life depended on it.

Now, the daily dose of nicotine helped him ease the hurt in the chest whenever his family appeared in the back of his mind.

“Evans! Perfect timing, I was looking for you.”

He didn't even look at the girl who just interrupted his small moment of peace. He let out a chuckle. “Stalking me even during breaks now, Leila?”

“I wouldn't have to if you'd just stop being so stubborn.”

“And I told you my answer is still no.”

“You can't refuse. Everyone want a piece of the new student. It is my duty to take you to the party so that all of us can get to know the antisocial git you are, while you get to know how great and funny your comrades can be.”

“What exactly don't you get in the 'antisocial git' part?” he said, rising an amused eyebrow as he looked at her for the first time since the start of the discussion. Leila puffed. She liked to think she could be intimidating sometimes, as required by her role as the head of the student committee. But unfortunately for her, Harry wasn't the kind of person to be easily impressed. In fact, he found this semblance of authority quite amusing every time he interacted with the girl.

Thus explaining the countless arguments they'd had since the end of the first semester.

“It's been three months already!”

“And?”

“And we still don't know what you like or dislike, your habits, what you want to achieve after graduation, and whatnot!”

“Well, it's not a bad thing. I have my antisocial git position at stake after all.”

“Ugh. You are infuriating, Evans.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn't mean it as a compliment.”

“I'm aware.”

He did his best to contain a laugh at the other's expression. He could literally see her ears fuming in the cold air like an engine steam while Leila tried to keep her composure. “Come to the party this weekend,” she said finally.

“I think I stated my opinion on the matter five times already.”

“I won't give up.”

“Jeez!” Harry sighed. He squashed the tip of his cigarette against the wall before throwing it in the big metal ashtray designed for this. “I'll think about it, okay? I promised my flatmate to help him fix his old motorbike and I'll be quite busy, so I'll give it a thought or two but don't expect anything.”

“… Still better than a simple no I guess.”

“If you got no other business with me, can I go to the bathroom without being followed by the insistent, annoying little stalker you are?”

“Why, Evans. I didn't know you liked me that much.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Well then. I'll leave you alone for now.” Thank God for small mercies. “The theme is Venice Carnival, by the way. See you at the party Evans.”

… Damn it.

-#-

His life had been utterly chaotic the day he left Potter manor for the last time. The first thing he did when he returned in his old flat was to burn and throw away every trace of him, then pack all necessaries stuff to move out in Thomas' who had accepted to take him in for a little while. His next move was to transfer to another university located in the north of England, far away from London where he could be easily tracked down at any corner of the streets.

It hadn't been so simple and Harry had had difficult times to accommodate into his new life. He even made the request to take his mother's name in case Voldemort's forces managed to find some leads about a young Potter travelling across the country. He didn't want to take any risk. There had been no news of the Dark Lord or anything regarding the wizarding world. Nothing from his parents as planned, and of course nothing from Allen either. Harry lived in his little bubble of peace, or what he liked to think was peace. The hardest part of all of this was behind now, he could continue his life normally for the remaining few years of escapade.

He hoped the distance was going to be bearable for a while. Harry was used to be away from home because of his muggle studies since elementary school, but at that time he knew he'd be seeing his family again at the end of terms. Even when he started staying at the school dormitory and then at his old flat, he came back to the manor every holiday period. They wrote to each other every weeks. Now though… all he would be doing was find a temporary job, merely bond with his new classmates and stay alone most of the time.

He had to get used to it. For now, at least.

He sincerely hoped they were safe while he was running away from Voldemort. No words from them was as relieving as it was extremely worrying. What if they were under torture right now to spit out his location? What if Allen's stay at Hogwarts had been compromised because of Harry? What if they… what if they'd been _killed_?

No no no. They were safe. They had to be.

He stopped in front of his apartment building to press the code on the keypad. Upon entering the small vestibule, a violent shiver ran down his spine, shaking him from head to toe. He frowned. Was it that cold inside?

Adam better had put the heater on or Harry was going to kill him. His flatmate knew all to well how much he couldn't stand the cold. Savings be damned, he didn't want to wake up stuck in an ice cube in the middle of the night. He opened the door of his flat, immediately hit by a horrendous smell abruptly invading all his senses. What the bloody hell?

“Leo!” he called at the doorway.

Was it another one of his cooking attempt? No, he made him swear never to try cooking again after the fiasco last month. He'd barely ended up at the hospital due to food poisoning.

“Leo!”

Where was the bastard? The fragrance was absolutely unbearable. It was a wonder how none of the neighbours had come knocking at their door to ask for some explanation about this yet. Covering his nose and mouth with his scarf. The odour grew even more abominable as Harry approached the living room. He walked in.

“You prick! What do you think you—” The rest got stuck in his throat at the sight he was greeted with.

Never in his life Harry had seen so much red. It was a colour he'd always been fond of since he was little. A colour of passion. Of love. The same shade all Gryffindors were wearing, that House of lions to which he always had imagined he would've belonged, had his life been different.

While the crimson colour covered every part of the walls and floor, the ones on his face drained almost instantly. He felt his veins freeze from inside, turning his entire body into a frigid statue as he could not divert his gaze from the hanging corpse suspended in the middle of the living room.

Beads of dark blood dripped from the lethal gashes running across the skin of his chest and stomach, from where bits of what he imagined were organs could be seen through the horrible tore tissues that once were neat attires. Leo's favourite. He regretted letting his eyes pursuing their ascent as soon as his gaze met the blond's face.

He didn't know when his body started to tremble, nor when he regained the control of his movements. But at this exact moment, Harry couldn't take it anymore and ran straight to the toilets with great difficulty. Shaking like a newborn, he let himself stumble over the bowl and threw up the little food he'd had at lunch.

_No._

No, no, no. It couldn't be true. It was a dream. Another vision perhaps? But it was so real. So, _so_ real. His head hurt. The smell remained putrid and utterly vile in the air, and that was the moment Harry realized it was blood combined with dark magic that were invading his nose and mouth, even more repulsive than his own vomit. And Leo's expression… The evil smirk drawn on his face, bloody and unmoving… Only dark magic was able of such a thing.

That meant…

“ _Oh God, no...”_

Wizards. Wizards had been here. They brutally killed his flatmate and made a fucking piece of art out of Leo's corpse. It was a message. Harry Potter had been found. And the realization of this fact made him retch again as a sharp cry escaped his mouth, desperate.

 _He_ knew.

 _He knew- he knew- Voldemort knew!_ His limbs still a trembling mess, he ran into his bedroom and automatically looked for his backpack. All he could think of, among panic and images of Leo smirking in his death, was to run. He was barely conscious of his movements. He just wanted to be far away from this place, from the danger, from the hanging corpse dripping blood on the living room's carpet.

His mind was a chaotic mess. What if they wanted to ambush him and came across Leo instead? What if they went to look for him and were about to come back here any time? How did they even know where he lived? Even his parents didn't know where—

He stopped.

His parents.

Allen…!

He searched for the golden Galleon hidden in a wooden box buried under a mass of clothes. It was where he had hidden several souvenirs from his former home, including photos and other small gifts he's been offered on several occasions. Squeezing the portkey vigorously, Harry waited for the magical device to sweep him away. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. He stayed still until he reached ten seconds and finally realized nothing was happening.

Was it broken..? No, it couldn't be.

He could feel the slight buzzing brushing over the golden coin. It trembled in his hands but did nothing else. The understanding got his breath stuck in his chest.

Anti-Apparition wards.

“Fuck!” He grabbed his backpack and ran toward the exit. He couldn't stay here any longer.

He violently fought against the reflex to turn towards the crime scene when he passed by the living-room. It was horrible. Completely inhuman. Death Eaters thought they had the right to treat muggles like this for the simple fact they didn't possess the natural gift that differentiated them from normal humans. They allowed themselves the privilege of decide the fate of ordinary people because that was what they rightfully were- _Ordinary_.

A wave of burning anger took shape inside of him, slowly taking over the tremendous fear that'd been clinging his body.

But he was completely powerless against them.

He had to at least do something about this. Taking his phone out of his pocket, he was already leaving the building when he finished composing the police number.

He didn't give them time for introduction. “Help! Someone's been murdered! Please come to 67 Church Street, flat number—”

The device went flying in the air before he could finish. It landed on the pavement, dispersing pieces of heavy plastic at the impact. He turned just in time to avoid a red light coming straight at him. A familiar, dreadful cackling rose from behind, provoking a slow shiver through his spine. Harry watched with horror the form of Bellatrix Black joyfully chasing him, joined with several other wizards who appeared out of nowhere.

He kept running, still unable to activate the portkey despite the distance he was putting between him and the building. How far away did they placed the wards from?

“Come and play, Squibby Potty!”

He rolled on the ground as another hex came flying above his head. He barely paid attention to the people he involuntarily pushed aside to make his escape. None of the bystanders saw the group of dark robed wizards throwing curses at him, nearly missing them in the process.

His lungs were burning under the sudden effort. Harry had no choice but to keep running endlessly until he could get out of the anti-Apparition wards.

A curse exploded in his back. It sent him flying like his phone earlier, and Harry came crashing in a deserted alley away from the crowd. A sharp pain made him see white for a second. He let out a cry as he tried to crawl on his stomach. He had definitely broken something. Cursing through his ragged breath, the boy kept crawling on the ground, the previous feeling of rage changing back into terror when he heard steps entering the alley.

The Death Eaters came closer.

The raven-haired boy shifted his position so that he could put a hand in his jacket pocket. Fingers gripped the golden coin inside. A throbbing jolt radiated from the portkey. It was his chance.

“ _Potter Manor!_ ”

Everything became blurry. He felt his body being sucked through space. As in every Apparition, he felt as if he was being repeatedly compressed and decompressed for a millisecond that seemed to last several minutes. He stumbled into a familiar surrounding. His home. Falling on the ground again, Harry had to bit his lips to contain a howl of pain. “Sally!”

Although coming back here filled him with joy and relief despite the situation, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling of wrongness impregnated in the atmosphere. His stomach still weak from the horror and the running he experienced just now, he did his best to contain the rest of the bile threatening to come out in his throat. He had to make sure his parents weren't in danger.

“Sally!”

One hand placed over his belly, carefully avoiding his ribs, the eighteen year old boy let go of the backpack and walked through the long hallways, back hunched over in pain. He passed some portraits– non-magical portraits– whose eyes gave the impression of following his every moves.

Allen must be at Hogwarts. Yule ended a month ago, the terms must have began at the beginning of January like it used to.

Harry stopped suddenly.

Sally never appeared in the end. Magically tied to their masters, it was impossible for house elves to ignore one of them when called. Harry's heart ran wild. He started to walk faster.

“Mum? Dad! Allen!” There was no response as the boy strode the corridors, his legs limping in the process. “Everyone!” The echo of his cries was the only indication of him being completely alone within these walls. It wouldn't have been so worrying if Sally had appeared right when he called her. Something was wrong.

Unable to make any more steps at the risk of fainting, the boy entered the closest room he could reach. The kitchen remained as it was before he left. It was as though time had frozen within the whole manor during his absence. Everything was clean, utensils and dishes stored at the right place like they hadn't been used at all.

He couldn't tell whether it was the stabbing pain in his ribs or the feeling of emptiness that allowed all sorts of restless thoughts to fill him up that caused Harry to be so much distracted. Perhaps, in different circumstances, he would have noticed the darkness soaking the room and the entire manor all together. Perhaps he would have noticed it immediately after he Apparated. Perhaps he would have right away become aware of the presence comfortably settled in the corner of the kitchen.

The recognition was so sudden, he nearly hit the counter when he startled upon realizing just who sat merely meters away from him. He should have known, really. But still… he'd hoped it was just a bad feeling.

“ _You..!?_ What– How did you…?”

He watched as the man delicately put his cup of coffee on the table- where did it come from?- and slowly, smugly looked at Harry who couldn't take his eyes off the one he thought he would never see ever again. “Hello to you too, Harry.”

Whether because of pain or dismay, his voice sounded hoarse as he spoke, “You can't be– You…! No way.”

“As eloquent as you brother, I see. You two really are related, there's no doubt about that.”

The mention of Allen made his blood froze. Regaining a bit of composure, he glared. “What did you do to my brother?! Where are my parents? Answer me!”

Chuckling, Voldemort stood up from the chair. Harry tensed, immediately on guard. “Don't worry Harry. Your questions will be answered in due course. After all, time won't matter anymore now that I finally have you with me.”

No, no no…

Cold sweat crept down his spine. “Don't call me that.”

“I will call you whatever I desire, _Harry Potter._ Or is it Harry Evans now?”

An invisible weight came to press against his chest, getting heavier and heavier as the man poured out his sweet venom while speaking. One step at a time, he began to shorten the distance between them.

“How did you know…?” About the place. The portkey. The name.

“I must say, you were really hard to track down. You did an amazing good job getting away from my radars. Even rummaging your family's mind gave no clue about your location.”

Harry saw red. Ignoring the stinging pain clamped to his ribs, he pounced on Voldemort without warning. His fists pulled the collar of his robe, fury passing through his blazing green orbs. He suddenly didn't care it was the Dark Lord in front of him. He only saw a madman responsible for a murder, who just admitted to have hurt his family even if not physically.

His emotions were in turmoil, he no longer knew how to react. One moment he was frozen in terror, and next the rage made him lose his mind. A boy had been horribly murdered in his living-room, he had been attacked by Death Eaters in broad daylight, he didn't know where or how Allen and his parents were and now he had a bloody Dark Lord in his kitchen, acting as if the man owned the whole world- and maybe he did, in a sense.

Harry wanted to cry, to scream and beat the shit out of Voldemort right here. Maybe the three at once. His fist was grabbed before he could land a hit. He lost his balance and Voldemort took this opportunity to pull the boy and pinned him on the counter surface. No wand needed. Only brute strength and natural control over Harry's emotions.

“Let me go!” he tried to fight the hands binding his on the table, to no effect.

“Now, Harry. Let's have a little chat now that I have you precisely where I wanted.”

“W-what?”

“You see, snooping into your little brother's head has proven to be particularly fruitful. Poor you. You've been so careful all those years, but you forgot that nothing can escape my notice. Especially when it comes to minds.”

“I don't know what you're talking about!”

Smiling like the devil, Voldemort leaned forwards, breath ghosting over Harry's ear.

“Are you sure, _little Seer_?” the man hissed, revelling in the boy's expression

From the moment Voldemort uttered the word, Harry's world shattered completely. The infinitesimal hope he was clinging to in order to try to get out of this disastrous situation vanished along with his breath. Eyes wide open, his face was drained of all its colours in no time. His heart abruptly started beating again like hammer strokes against his chest.

He felt blood coming up his brain, creating a buzzing chaos inside while the boy's vision began to flickered. Eyes burning with triumph, Voldemort watched as Harry started hyperventilating underneath him. He let his fingers caress the side of the raven-haired squib in a falsely affectionate manner. “I knew there was something special with you from the moment our eyes met. I knew I had to take you away from the outside world.”

He placed a kissed on the teen's face, letting the salty taste of tears moisten his lips.

“You may have succeeded in escaping my claws for a long time, but it ends now. You're mine, Harry.”

Harry seemed to have regained a sliver of his senses at some point during his fit of terror. Still panting as the boy forced himself to steady his shaken respiration, he tried again to free his hands, to move his legs so as to push the evil wizard away from him.

“Where is my family?”

Voldemort hummed, lowering his face down his neck. “They're well and alive, for now,” he said and smiled when he felt the other tense.

“Where are they?” Harry repeated, voice dry.

“Don't test my patience Harry. They may be in good shape right now but it can change at any time. I only need to say a word and you might never see them again. Your parents are ready to be tortured as we speak, and they will be so if you don't cooperate.”

“Don't touch them!”

“It will depend on your answer. Submit, and they're going to be fine. Keep fighting and see what kind of cruelty I'll gladly inflict upon your devoted family.”

“You son of a bitch—”

“ _Crucio_.”

He didn't even see Voldemort take out his wand. The previous pain of his ribs was nothing compared to this atrocious agony. He convulsed under the dark lord, back arching as though to escape the endless suffering that felt like a raging fire spreading through all of his nerves at once. It ended quickly, but it was largely enough to shut him up for a while.

“While I appreciate your defiance, I will not tolerate blatant disrespect.”

Harry coughed. His body was jolting with nervous spasms, still under the cruciatus' after effects.

“I will… _never_ … be yours!”

He had to admit, this boy was very strong-willed. That stubbornness of his was almost breathtaking, and it was certainly something to admire. Voldemort didn't mind a bit of fighting, it was what made things even more interesting for his part.

“Won't you?” he smiled.

“I will... fight you until the day I die. I swear it.”

The gleam in the crimson orbs became even more intense. Harry could feel the mixture of dark magic and lust enveloping them both in an invisible thick fog almost suffocating.

“Oh,” his sides were grabbed in a possessive manner, “we will see about that.”

He pressed their lips together. Harry didn't have time to gasp. Tired and considerably weakened due to the unforgivable he'd experienced less than a minute ago, Harry was totally powerless when the man forced his way inside his mouth, exploring, controlling with the merciless tongue reducing the squib to a protesting, shivering mess.

There was no tenderness in the kiss. No love, not even an ounce of passion. Only dominance. Control. Power. So much power.

White fog filled Harry's eyes, and the boy was suddenly drifting into the same vision that had him submerged into an inescapable fear for months until this day. A fear that has crossed space and time to become ingrained in his reality.

And again, somewhere in the depth of his mind as the not-so-illusory images slowly faded, as Harry came back into his body and let the despicable Dark Lord have his way with him, he wondered; why didn't his Sight prevent his life to turn into hell when it had the power to?

What would be the point of possessing this cursed Gift, only to end this way?

On those last thoughts, Harry barely reacted when he felt himself being whisked away through space, held within the dark lord's arms.

.

.

.

The abundant heat was spread all over the room. Fragrance of incense impregnated every particle of air which was already full with whimpering cries and powerful magic. The last two years had been considerably conducive for the Dark lord and his empire. Every last of the rebels had been arrested and none of them had been spared. Executions had followed one after the other for days, months, Voldemort savouring every single death with triumph. He forced Harry to watch the deadly shows after the boy had unwillingly helped him to unearth each of the criminals.

Yes, he used the boy to decimate all of them. Ruthlessly. Harry had been quite reluctant at first, what with his guilty conscious and whatnot, especially when he had known some of the rebels were former friends of his parents who decided to oppose the Dark Lord until the very end. But Voldemort held the sword of death and torture above the Potters heads, and that was what always had the beautiful squib capitulate in the end.

Blood magic and several rituals had been of a great help for this. Harry was now trained to enter a vision whenever Voldemort wanted him to. And wasn't it truly delectable?

Harry had fought. All this time, he remained true to his words and refused to break. Oh, he'd fought. Tooth and nail, most often literally speaking. He was still fighting right now, writhing under him while he was ravaging the beautiful Seer to oblivion.

Tears of fury and despair misted his green eyes, the pearls of light making those orbs as bright as the jewels covering his neck, wrists and ankles. He was completely stunning. As much by the boiling rage dancing in his eyes as by the resigned and shame-filled expression he had as he gradually succumbed to the pleasure the man he was loathing with all his might was giving him. Only Voldemort could see him like this. Only he could watch the tears, the deep hatred, the blood on his lips left after a biting as he vainly tried to suppress a series of moans.

Moans which only he could hear.

Harry Potter was his. Nothing and no one will have the power to change this fact.

He thrust into him for the umpteenth time this night, welcoming another cry of pain that quickly transformed into a whine of unwanted bliss. He could not get enough of this. What began with a vicious desire for the Potter squib had quickly become a sudden obsession impossible to get rid of as Voldemort made Harry his again and again every day for weeks, months and years.

Time was meaningless in the presence of his favourite. And it was then that the thought suddenly led him to something even darker...

Harry was in the prime of his youth. Young, lively, terribly enticing, and possessed a gift that made him even more precious than anyone else in the world. Voldemort certainly wouldn't mind having this jewel for eternity.

“What are your thoughts about horcruxes, Harry?”

The only answer he got were muffled sounds.

He went on nonchalantly, “I can make you one, so that Death would never touch you. We could live forever while I make the entire world mine and we'd be worshipped by every single human on this planet until Life completely ceases to exist. What do you think?”

Still no response. Either Harry wasn't listening, or he was deliberately ignoring him. His intuition leaned toward the latter. He rocked his hips, hard. Harry jolted.

“N-no…! I don't… want to be- ahh- immortal with… _you!_ ”

“It's a shame.”

No matter, he had all the time in the world to convince his precious Seer. While he was thinking about which item would fit the soul of his little squib the best, Voldemort felt the boy clench around him. The whimpers grew more desperate, his muscles tenser than they already were. A smirk parted the man's lips, who then leaned down Harry's neck, kissing it before reaching the earlobe. Voldemort's whisper was like sweet poison coursing through his system.

_“Your brother would make a perfect sacrifice.”_

Harry came with a cry of white fury and desperation. Voldemort's laughter pierced the air with a deafening cruelty. His laughter continued to haunt Harry's mind as he kept defiling his precious Seer who will never taste freedom ever again.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU everyone for your generous feedback. And thanks for accompanying my poor soul to Hell. It might be the only fanfic that I have finished so far lmao. I hope you liked it.  
> I know my vocabulary isn't that great but it'll get better with time I promise. (I hope so)
> 
> LONG LIVE TOMARRY.  
> (and harrymort without the snake-face)

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!


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